And I Draw The Water Once More Poem by Chris Taylor

This last week was kind of a challenging one for me. So many things to get done and a home project to boot. I became a little weary and in my quiet time with the Lord, I, once again, came across this old bible verse. John 4: 13-14 Jesus said to her, “Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks of the water that I will give him will never be thirsty again. The water that I will give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life”(ESV version) . In our busy lives, so many of us seek after things that will eventually bring us right back to thirst again. We strive, in our own power, to quench that unquenchable thirst all man has. Stop purchasing expensive drink that will never quench your soul. Right now, exactly where you are, if you are weary, ask Jesus to quench your thirst; for His water leads to fulfilment and eternal life. Enjoy this poem about weariness, doubt and a great quenching of thirst.
The Great Plains Poet



And I Draw The Water Once More

a poem by Chris T.

Tossing my bucket down the well
A quick silence fills that space in time before the splash
Contact with the water is great
And the sound of “glug, glug” is music to my ears

The last bit of saliva forms in the back of my throat
For the anticipation of Living Water is palpable
My patience is tested as I wait for the bucket to fill
And the desert’s cruel mirage continues to act out its deadly theater

Now comes the hardest part; the pull upward
One fist in front of the other, I draw up this weathered rope
My arms shake in a rhythm of swaying and groans
Doubt then comes to sojourn my mind

Temptation becomes greatest in the middle
Can I pull some more, will the rope break and will I perish before my chore is done?
A small piece of doubt, but no great chunk of disbelief
The edge of the well slowly begins to nick away at the strands

Oh, the effort is great and the sun so merciless
My palms are screaming to let go of the rope
But my faint heart knows the power of the water
Burn muscles burn; I will not let go

Finally, the bucket has reached the top
I plunge my head into the water
Like a savage whose thirst was ample
Now gently I cup my hands and gather the bounty

To my lips, I place the Living Water
All doubt has ebbed away
This broken body is now rejuvenated
The path to the next well doesn’t seem so far